


Glamour Shot

by NukaDarling



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, dirty cosplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NukaDarling/pseuds/NukaDarling
Summary: Hancock might not be an educated man, but he's a wise one. While he couldn't tell you what exactly Nora means when she talks about the 'hubris of man' or whatever, he's pretty sure he could look at himself and get a decent idea of it. It's not his fault he just has so many good ideas, you know? And bangin' the Silver Shroud on the floor of the comic book shop is just maybe the best one yet.Kinktober prompt: Video/Camera
Relationships: John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Glamour Shot

Blood and glowing green goo and pre-war detritus littered the room, Hancock was huddled on the floor while bleeding profusely from a slash across his back, and Nora was completely over this apocalypse shit.

She'd liked Hubris Comics before the war. She didn't have a ton of time for reading the books in law school, and especially not when she was sweating through eighteen hour shifts in Nuka-World's wardrobe department, but she'd always loved Grognak and especially Astoundingly Awesome Tales. Nate hadn't had any particular interest in stories like that when his whole life was trying to survive his deployment.

She'd have wished that he could have enjoyed the stories with her, but the time they did have together was certainly not spent reading comic books.

When she could get a moment of reprieve, brand new comics were still too much of a luxury, but she did quite like listening to the Silver Shroud serial on the radio while she worked, and the occasional old print would make its way to her desk by thoughtful coworkers.

Nate never even knew that her wedding gown was styled after the Mistress of Mystery, the sweet, clueless angel.

She missed him. To hell with the war, to the Institute, and to radioactive zombie things.

The top floor of Hubris Comics seemed to be some sort of studio. She'd gotten Hancock out of his torn jacket and ruffly blouse to reveal a deep, ugly gash across his back.

“Don't know why you're fussin’,” he rasped. Breathing obviously hurt him. She dropped her pack to hunt for a stimpak, and he grunted a protest.

“Should save that. I'm a ghoul, darlin’. I'm sitting pretty in a puddle of rads right now that'll get me back up soon. Just need… a minute to rest.”

“That doesn't seem like that should work,” she said, frowning, and he shrugged weakly.

“Ain't life grand. You wanna look around? I'll be alright here.”

She knelt down and pressed the lightest kiss to his forehead. This thing between them was young and fragile, but exhilarating—when she wasn't worried he was going to bleed out on the floor of a comic book shop, anyway. “I'll see what I can find. I think Kent would have loved this place back in the day.”

It really was surprising that anything worth stealing hadn't been taken already. Props, memorabilia… but then again, what was their worth when there were so few fans left to care? Nora hefted Grognak’s axe over her shoulder and returned to the studio to strike a pose for Hancock, who was evidently feeling well enough to sit up for a hit of Jet.

He was strikingly attractive like that, she realized with some surprise, bare-chested and hedonistic, eyeing her up like he was a cat who got the cream.

She found herself blushing. Damn.

“I'm feelin’ the look, sister. Doesn't that guy wear a lot less, though?”

Nora laughed and dropped the axe beside him. “I found his loincloth with it but I didn't pick it up. That would take more Abraxo than there is in all of Boston.”

“Bet the right person would pay his weight in caps for a good sniff of that.” Hancock flashed her a mischievous grin, and she couldn't help returning it.

“A personal hero of yours?”

He grabbed the handle of the axe and used it for support to heft himself off the ground. “Oh, absolutely. I beat it to that guy all the time in my wayward youth. How about you?”

“To Grognak? No. I read comics for their intended purposes.” She turned back to rummage through some lockers. Some suits, mostly preserved, rancid greasepaint, hand props, hats…

“And who decides the intention? Content exists to be used by the consumer in any way they find meaningful. Whackin’ your axe to Grognak is just as valid as reading it for the story, or... hell, to use the damn book as kindling when you're cold.” Hancock gathered his torn clothes and spread them on a table, frowning at the damage. “Got any pins or tape or something in there?”

“There's gotta be… yeah, this looks like a sewing kit.” She glanced back at him leaning hard on the table for support. “How about you rest a while and I'll get those fixed up for you?”

“You sew?” At Nora’s sharp look, he quickly amended, “Not that there's anything wrong with that! You just don't… I mean, you build houses and run plumbing and shoot people in the face pretty good. Just surprised at the domestic stuff.”

Nora dumped an armful of clothes on the table. “I’ve had a lot of jobs. Never would have bothered with law if I'd known how useless it would be later. I had to forget law to learn justice.”

Hancock laughed and prowled over to grab her for a kiss, which she returned gladly. “Goddamn, it's like someone made you for me.”

She smiled coyly. “Almost like, huh.”

It was getting late, and the comic shop was as fine a shelter as they were going to get. Hancock set up a fire and tinkered with some electronics while Nora mended his clothes. Once she'd started, she felt compelled to correct the rough patches he'd applied himself over the years, and it was no great trouble to find some vodka in Hancock's pack to spritz over the mustier spots.

Despite the abundance of costume pieces all around them, Hancock remained shirtless through the repairs, and Nora was learning that, yep, she most definitely appreciated that lean torso, even mottled with scars and pocks, but so nicely muscled.

She wondered what that skin would feel like under her tongue. Maybe after they'd both had a bath.

A flash caught her attention and Hancock grinned brightly. “Well, hot damn, this might work. Think I just unbusted a camera.”

Nora snapped a loose thread with a seam ripper. She'd have used her teeth in the past, once upon a time in the land of dental insurance. “Yeah? What are you going to do with it?”

“You found that Shroud suit, right? Bet Kent would love a signed photo of you.”

“...to do what with, exactly?”

Hancock shrugged. “Not my concern. I wouldn't mind one for my personal collection, either. I know a guy who develops film; whaddya say, interested?”

“You know the Shroud is a man, right? A white one?”

Hancock shrugged. “I don't think that matters a bit. Think you'll find that stuff like that don't rile people up like it used to. Kent’s lookin’ for a hero, and darlin’, you've been wearing that look for a while now.”

Nora glanced away from him, uncertain what to do with the information. She wasn't trying to be anything to anyone, but if that's what people were thinking… “Two conditions, then. First is that I get a picture of you, and then one with you.”

“You don't get enough of this ugly mug when I'm around?” He laughed and got up to set the camera up on a tripod, fiddling with lighting to try to find some functional instruments. “What else?”

Nora came up behind him and looped her arms around his middle, hands lingering over his rough skin. “I want to wear your coat for one. Just the coat.”

Hancock dropped the lamp to the floor, and they both flinched at the sound of shattering glass. He looked over his shoulder, just barely, and rasped, “Couldn't hardly say no to that, could I?”

It took a while to get set up. Hancock found a power source for the room, then set to work cleaning up while Nora found replacement lamps for the lights.

“You do this in your seamstress studio, too?” He ribbed, and Nora snorted hard.

“It was a costume shop, but barely. They worked us so hard in Kiddie Kingdom that we had to learn how to do it. The cheap bastards would close the venue down around us if we slipped and I really needed the job back then.”

“Sounds like the end of the world wasn't such a bad thing for that place.”

“...yeah, maybe.” She sighed and adjusted the last light. “Had a lot of friends there, but I guess it didn't matter where my friends were in the end.”

Hancock slid his hands across her hips, posing himself flush to her back. “I want to feel sympathy an' all, but we got you out of it and I'm selfish like that.”

She pushed back against him, grinding her ass on him shamelessly. “Heh. Fair point. Wanna help me into the Shroud suit?”

He slid a hand up her shirt and nipped at her throat. “If I'm gonna do that, we won't get many photos taken, and you don't seem like the kinda gal who wants to get dirty on a nasty floor.”

She shivered. “Shame you feel that way. I'm obviously being too dainty with you.”

Hancock laughed and nuzzled her throat, then suddenly sucked hard to draw up a harsh red mark. “Ngh. Gonna get derailed, stop.”

He let go immediately. “Still want to do the photos?”

“I suppose," she sighed with the entire weight of the world. "Give me a sec to get changed.” She retreated to a dressing room to change while Hancock took his spot behind the camera.

He had a passing familiarity with the Silver Shroud from the radio show, but he'd never had the caps or the interest for one of the books, so he didn't have a ton of expectations for what the hero was supposed to look like. As soon as he saw Nora, he knew that nobody else was worth considering.

“Damn, you're wearin’ that look, huh? It's a good on you. Dramatic.”

“Yeah, I'm wearing it. Nothing underneath, though.” She popped her hip and flashed some leg from the front of the coat. “Trying not to think about how much dude sweat I'm stewing in. It's kinda itchy without, you know, real clothes.”

Hancock eyed her up for a long moment. At her quizzical look, he grinned brightly. “We were joking about getting a sniff of Grognak, but can you imagine what someone would cough up for that costume with a photo of you inside, bein’ a tease like that?”

Nora struck a pose, leaning saucily—and unsafely— on a prop machine gun, and Hancock fumbled with the camera for just a moment before trying out a few shots. “You'd sell me out?”

“Mm. I'd rather keep you close. Don't need the caps that bad. Hey, can you tip the hat down—yeah, like that. You look mysterious.” He snapped a few serious shots, then, “What if you popped a few buttons up top?”

Nora put on her best sultry look and took her time with the buttons, sliding the scarf down to cover herself just enough. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Fuck, you look good like this. Turn to the side a little? Mm, that's good. Little bit of titty.”

After the flash, Nora pulled the scarf free and held it stretched out in one arm, definitely exposing some skin.

“How much film do you have left?”

“Huh?” Hancock blinked up, shaken out of a daze. “Uh… shit, not much. What do you want next?”

“Can you make it take photos on a timer? I'd like one with you.”

“Think I could manage that,” he purred. He fiddled with the settings, accidentally blowing a shot in the process, and finally looked back to see Nora waiting by the screen.

Naked. In his coat.

Fuck.

He checked the settings and rushed in to join her. The shots had about three seconds between them, so they managed a few sincere poses before it fell into chaos. A chaste arm around her waist turned into a firm handful of ass, then a smooch to the cheek turned into a lick to his ear, and the flash continued to go off unnoticed as Hancock ended up flat on the floor with Nora straddling his hips, riding the heel of his hand to a loud climax right there on the green screen.

The bulb blew eventually as the night wore on, but the two were a bit busy to notice. Nora, now with fresh needle tracks from a pre-emptive dose of Rad-X, was swallowing what she could of his cock while plowing him with a pair of fingers, and he was praying to any god who was listening that he didn't blow down her throat right away because goddamn if there was any perfect moment ever, this would be it.

“...so we found the costume and all these cool props, but, uh, tried to take some pictures and none of them turned out because film doesn't like the exposure of an atom bomb, who knew, but— oof!” Hancock huffed, assaulted by a tearful hug from Kent.

Nora just smirked, smug as she could be in her fancy new outfit. “Death will come to those who do injustice, Kent Connolly… and I am its Shroud!”

**Author's Note:**

> Fits into the universe established in [That Goodneighbor Good Shit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769778).
> 
> Previously posted in a compilation of Kinktober prompts.


End file.
